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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049766">Our Choice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247'>Bexinthecity247</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bodyguard (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, F/M, after the show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our choice" he whispered to her.<br/>----<br/>A sad little one shot where David visits Julia's body in the mortuary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Budd &amp; Julia Montague, David Budd/Julia Montague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Our Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for Victoria :) <br/>It's very short but I enjoyed exploring the idea, all the same.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I want to see her.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was small, </span>
  <span>betrayed</span>
  <span> by the little wobble only his wife would notice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave...” Vicky said in that irritatingly calm voice he had heard her use numerous times on the kids. She was going to tell him it was a bad idea, that he hadn’t failed in his assignment as protection officer and that he should just walk away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she had no idea what he couldn’t walk away from; she couldn’t possibly understand, could she??</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really shouldn’t. You need to go home,” she said, predictable as ever.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>David clenched his fists in his lap, staring at the same clean spot on the floor. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to see her,” he said through gritted teeth. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his head, gaze unable quite to meet his wife’s. He heard her sigh; it was a weary sigh; one he had had directed at him so many times in the death throes of their marriage. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re already in trouble, just come home with me, see the kids,” she begged and before she could finish, she was shaking his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t. I have to-” he insisted.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave! This is ridiculous. You’re going to lose your job!” she cut him off </span>
  <span>tersely</span>
  <span>, her penchant for caring had just dried up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care about my fucking job!” he snapped.</span>
  
</p>
<p><span>Vicky flinched and maybe if he’d been in his right mind, he might have cared, </span><span>apologised</span><span> even. But then the crushing weight of loss, and grief and all the shit that comes in between pressed down on him and angry hot tears flooded his eyes. </span> <br/></p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need to, okay?” he said, voice strained and cracked.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His wife had withdrawn now; pulled her caring arm away, angled herself away from him. Oh, how he had once loved her with such a passion, he couldn’t breathe. And she’d used to love him too before he had become unlovable. Until Julia had cracked him open and shown him otherwise.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of it mattered now. But he needed to see her face. One last time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never mind you losing your job, I could lose mine!” she snapped </span>
  <span>shrilly,</span>
  <span> and he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he stressed, eyes hardening as his walls came crashing down, forcing her out like so many times before. “I know... but I need to you to do this for me...please.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no right to ask, he knew that and judging by the flash across her eyes, Vicky knew that too. Resentment was bound to be high on her list of feelings for him. And he’d never blame her for that, now when he had created the problem. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vicky sighed in that bone-weary way; this was likely to be the last favour she’d do him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d deal with that later.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she barely said.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She got up, looking down at him and his jaw tightened, biting back the uncontrollable fire blossoming within him, charring his already scarred insides. It churned up his gullet, threatening to spill through his bloodied lips in a mix of vomit and vitriol. He swallowed the heat, and uneasily rose to his feet. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilted her head in an impatient beckoning.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you’re going through some shit Dave, but I don’t have all day,” she said sharply, brow raised in silent reproach. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at </span>
  <span>her</span>
  <span> only for a moment before pushing himself off the hard hospital chair, with what felt like hundred year old, stiff bones, taking a step towards the woman he had once envisioned spending the rest of his life with, on two legs that barely held him up. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An ache in his side reminded him that he had nearly been blown up two days ago. An ache in his chest reminded him that he had no future outside of his children.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain vibrated through every cell until white heat spiked over his head and down his spine. He gave her a cold nod; he was ready. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>David kept his pinhole vision trained on the cold white door at the end of the bland oppressive walls, the blankness of it was all so representative of his life now, or at least that’s how it felt; a blanket of nothingness had descended, suffocating and painful, get unfeeling all at the same time. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to cry but try as he may, the lump in his throat nor the cold hardness in his chest, wouldn’t yield to tears. </span>
  <span>Autopilot</span>
  <span> instead brought him to a stop, a hand on his arm bringing him to the very edge of consciousness.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can only give you ten minutes, Dave,” Vicky said softly, a tone he was almost unused to hearing from her these days. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god, how much shit had he put her through? </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and she swiped her NHS card, the door buzzing open and everything else melted away as he stepped through and it closed behind him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was clean, sterile and he imagined, wryly, that Julia would have quite liked it. Nausea burned in the pit of his stomach, rushing up his throat, until he threw a hand up to his mouth, curling into a fist to stop the heaving breaths from escaping. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow,</span>
  <span> he was afraid that he’d be found and ejected if he made any kind of noise. Absurd. No one would hear him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In... out... he breathed slowly, ragged, and drawn out until he felt confident enough to take a step forward. The hospital had basically been on lockdown since the bombing, so it didn’t take him long to surmise that the solitary body, shrouded by the statutory white sheet, was Julia Montague, fragile and still, almost </span>
  <span>angelic</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> unlike how she lived. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agony shattered every nerve in his bod until he lurched forward, closing the distance between him and his … what? Lover?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>David hesitated, hovering above her body. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all? Maybe he should leave things where they were? Remember her alive. </span>
  <span>But,</span>
  <span> how could he? When he couldn’t get the image of that ...fucking explosion out of his head; when every time he closed his eyes, he saw her panicked face, her broken body beneath his, so unlike the way she normally had felt beneath his skin whenever he’d made her moan and writhe.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cleared his throat; it was over, all that. It was all done, and he could only hope for closure and move on, even if it </span>
  <span>seemed</span>
  <span> unfathomable. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand </span>
  <span>drifted</span>
  <span> lower until his fingertips grazed the white cotton, pulling it back to reveal her porcelain face. Her skin was paler without her perfectly applied make up. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julia Montague was </span>
  <span>someone</span>
  <span> who had always made everyone stand to attention, to take notice of what she’d say, and even in death, he felt an urge to stand up straighter, to get her approval. To capture her attention. She had bewitched him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his thumb over her bruised face, stopping just at the edge of her torn up neck. She was like him now; broken. He leaned down, nose grazing her hair, now bloodied and stuck to her fractured skull, and his hand reached under the sheet, fingers closing around her wrist. She was so cold yet silky smooth. She’d never trail her fingertips over the grooves of his gnarled back, accepting him in </span>
  <span>ways</span>
  <span> no one else had.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He replaced her hand, the stark reminder too strong.  But her face was still so damn close to his! He stifled the anguished groan, a thousand and one flashes of all the other times her face had been close to his, lips usually involved; how they’d pull into a slight smirk, or fall slightly lax when he slid into her. She had been so warm then.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was so fucking wrong now. He had failed. He couldn’t protect the one he loved. That much was evident. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears dripped down onto her cheeks and for a long reaching moment, he thought there’d been a mistake; his Juliet was not dead, but it was some cruel Shakespearean joke. Then he </span>
  <span>realised</span>
  <span> it was he, who was crying, and swiped at his face. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our choice,” he whispered to her, heads touching only slightly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He allowed himself a moment to feel her presence before he kissed her forehead and pulled the sheet back over her face.</span>
  
</p>
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